


Why the FBI Hates Fanfiction Writers

by SBlev92



Category: Original Work
Genre: Characters Writing Fanfiction, Comedy, Comedy of Errors, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBlev92/pseuds/SBlev92
Summary: FBI Agent Samuel Clancy just wants to do his part to protect the country. He thought being on the Internet Monitoring Division would be a piece of cake, after all how hard is it to monitor people's internet browsing habits and report suspicious activity? What he didn't count on, however, was fanfiction authors and all the strange and suspicious things they look up! See all the hilarious blunders Agent Clancy finds himself in as he's duped time after time by what appears to be a criminal plot, but just turns out to be writers in our favorite hobby doing what they do. Will Clancy ever catch a break and actually find criminal activity? Or is he doomed to forever be thrown off by the wonderful world of fanfiction?





	1. Introduction

Hi, I’m Federal Agent Samuel Clancy. You know, here at the FBI, we work hard every day to keep this country safe from threats both foreign and domestic; one of the ways we do this is the monitoring of web traffic and browsing habits. Now, I know what you might be thinking: “But Agent Clancy, isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

Well not to worry, most of your searches we just ignore for the most part, unless it points to illegal activity. So yes we have seen that weird porn site you keep visiting, or that cringeworthy _Sonic the Hedgehog_ artwork you continue to Google Image search, but we pay it no never mind because it’s not against the law.

This job is pretty straightforward: look at people’s computer screens and if it looks like they’re doing bad things, report it. However there is one element of the internet that I believe exists to deliberately throw us off and make us second-guess ourselves: fanfiction. Ah, fanfiction, I can’t tell you how often I’ve been made a fool of because of this fun and (yes, technically legal) hobby of many people worldwide. The nature of fanfiction requires its writers to look up some pretty…um, “questionable” things online, raising a lot of false flags for us at the Bureau. Since I have some spare time on my hands, I figured I’d share with you my past experiences with fanfiction authors and their misleading web activity!


	2. Loud and Clear

I guess the best place to start would be the beginning. It was my first shift in the Internet Monitoring Division and I was pretty excited to begin working. I had just been transferred from the police force to the FBI, and I was eager to save the day from behind the scenes for once.

“Welcome to your new station, Agent Clancy.” My boss, Director Harvey Jacobs, said with a smile running across his wrinkled face. “I’m sure briefing told you exactly what you need to do, so get started. If you have any questions, my office is at the end of the hall! Um, don’t have any questions.”

“Thanks sir, I won’t let you down!” I said.

“Yeah, don’t be a kiss-ass either.” Director Jacobs huffed as he walked away. I rubbed my hands together with pleasure. This was going to be great! Not the spying on people part but the “I could stop a crime before it even happens” part! I logged into the system and the software let me click through people’s browsers with ease! It looked a bit like having their desktop on your computer screen, only you weren’t controlling anything, and their IP address was at the top.

For the first few hours, I didn’t find anything that earth-shattering. It was a Saturday night so most people were looking at porn, _legal_ porn. And anyone who wasn’t doing that was playing games, on Facebook, spoiling movies that just came out (curse you EdgeLord887, I didn’t know that character died!), you know, typical Internet bullcrap. I did come across a conspiracy page suggesting Trump was an alien from the planet Venus, that gave me a good laugh. Oh, these conspiracy theorists!

Then, I came across something that _finally_ brought me out of my boredom. It was a comment thread between someone with the username “MasterStroke93” and an anonymous commenter. The first comment was “If you don’t want to spoil what happens tonight, skip this thread!” Intrigued, I read through the thread. Here’s a transcript of the conversation:

**MasterStroke93:** Lori dies tonight.

**Anonymous:** omg 4 real? Neva thought u had it in u

**MasterStroke93:** Yeah well, I’m done with her. And I know everyone around her is.

**Anonymous:** how r u gonna do it

**MasterStroke93:** Stabbed, right in the chest while she’s sleeping. No one will ever know who did it.

**Anonymous:** so brutal lol. How will her siblings handle it

**MasterStroke93:** Oh, they’re gonna bawl their eyes out! Except Lincoln, he’ll probably be fine. She’s always mean to him.

**Anonymous:** her fans wont like this

**MasterStroke93:** That’s part of the fun! Hahaha

**Anonymous:** good luck! Cant wait 4 this!

My heart was beating rapidly now! Who was this “Lori” girl? And why did MasterStroke93 want her dead so badly? None of that mattered, I instantly called Director Jacobs and told him what I found. He instructed me to trace the IP address this came from and get in contact with the local police in that area. The IP address came from a fairly affluent neighborhood in Indiana. I hastily dialed the closest police station to that area and reported my findings. The commissioner said he’d get some officers to the address I gave them immediately.

While I was waiting for the cops to arrive at this person’s house, I tried to do a little digging on who “Lori” was. Maybe I could find out why this maniac wanted to kill her. He said something about her “fans” not liking her murder, so she must be relatively famous. A local celebrity or a YouTube star or something? I tried researching famous women named Lori with a brother named Lincoln, but the only result that came up there were characters in a Nickelodeon cartoon, but no _real_ people. And “Lori” and “Indiana” didn’t return anything of real note.

Finally, our live feed of police frequencies told me that the cops had at last arrived at the house. I breathed a sigh of relief; whoever Lori was, at least she was safe now. I waited for about thirty minutes for some kind of news, anything as to who this person was and what his beef with this lady was. Finally, the phone at my desk rang. It was the police commissioner.

“Agent Clancy?” he said. “Um, by chance, what website did you see this comment thread in?” I had never bothered to check the particular website I saw this in. I didn’t figure it mattered: a death threat was a death threat! I quickly pulled up the screen with the comments on it.

“Um, it was on Archive of our Own.” I said.

“Yup. And what does that site specialize in?” the commissioner asked, the irritation in his voice clear.

“Fanfiction?” I said sheepishly.

“Bingo.” He said.

“Um, is there a problem?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Yeah, you’re an idiot! _That’s_ the problem!” The commissioner shouted. So long story short, the comment thread was pertaining to a fanfiction story MasterStroke93 was working on about the Nickelodeon cartoon _The Loud House_. Apparently he was disclosing to another user how he planned to kill off the character Lori in the next chapter. I should’ve known this, my son and I watch that show all the time! How did I _not_ put the pieces together? This was the thought going through my head as I was banging my head on my desk repeatedly.

So of course, the cops let MasterStroke93 (real name Harold Cobb) go, and Director Jacobs reprimanded me for wasting police time and resources. He also recommended that I research the hospital records from the day of my birth to see how many times I’d been dropped on my head.

Yes, I was deeply embarrassed by this incident, and it impressed upon me just how much of a nuisance fanfiction was going to be on this job. Though there was silver lining to this experience: first of all, it made me smarter and more careful about checking the website before I report things. Secondly, at least MasterStroke93 didn’t kill Luan instead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you're enjoying the story! I thought I'd put all my little copyright disclaimers here. Not really sure if I need them for this story or not, but better to be safe than sorry!
> 
> _The Loud House_ and all related characters and events are owned by Nickelodeon.


	3. Presidential Cable Provider

So you’d think after the whole _The Loud House_ incident, I would’ve learned my lesson when it came to fanfiction. Unfortunately, you fic writers have a funny habit of making your browsing habits as suspicious as humanly possible. Take one incident that happened to me a few weeks later; I was sitting at my desk doing completely business-related, absolutely non-solitaire activities, when Director Jacobs gave me a call.

“Clancy, it’s Jacobs. Listen, there’s an IP address we want you to monitor.” He said. “We’ve been picking up some pretty suspicious Google searches coming from this computer and I want you to keep an eye on them for a while.”

“Sure thing, sir. Just send me the address and I’ll get right on it!” I said. Jacobs sent me the IP address in question, I typed it in and was blinded by a bright flash of pink on my screen.

“Uh, Kitty Cat Gun Show 2018?” I gawked at the images of various cartoon cats holding firearms. “‘Come down to the shooting range dressed as your favorite animated cat and have milk bowls-full of fun target shooting?’ The hell?”

“Oh, sorry wrong IP address!” Jacobs quickly said. “That’s…uh, another case I’ve got working. Yeah, that’s it. Anyway, here’s the address you need. Keep an eye on this person and let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

I entered the new IP address into the database and got to work. At first, the screen showed what appeared to be an online gun shop. I guess there was nothing wrong with that, I mean it is a Second Amendment right after all! Besides, the user never actually bought anything. After this, the person spent the next few hours on Facebook bashing the president on national news pages. Again, this behavior wasn’t particularly atypical; there are a lot of people who don’t like the president. Then, the computer pulled up Google.

_Detailed map of the White House_

Huh, okay? Guess somebody’s curious about the White House.

_How many Secret Service agents patrol inside the White House_

Um…a little weird but I guess not an illegal thing to ask.

_When do the snipers on the White House roof change shift?_

I leaned forward, eyes widening. What was this person up to?

_Are the windows on the Oval Office bulletproof?_

Woah, okay now this person had my attention! Why else would someone want to know something like this unless…oh my God! I’d done it! I uncovered a presidential assassination attempt, _ME_! Agent Samuel Clancy was about to become a national hero! I could only imagine the awesome things that would entail.

Tracking the address of the computer, I sped to the perp’s house. I marched up the stairs to their apartment, gun in hand, and kicked down the door in one strike, aiming my handgun directly at them.

“Hands where I can see them, asshole!” I said in a smooth tone, a big toothy grin on my face.

“Oh no, Agent Clancy!” the crook said, hands raised. “I’ll never escape now!”

“Ya got that right, dirtbag!” I said, whipping my sunglasses off and flipping my hair. “Your freedom’s been… _assassinated!_ ” Pretty sure there was a sparkle on my teeth when I said this. The would-be assassin was arrested and the president himself wished to honor me at a special ceremony in Washington, D.C.

“On this day, I’d like to personally thank beast-mode FBI agent Sam Clancy for saving my life.” The president said. “This is a yuge win for our country. We always won before, and won bigly, but now we’re winning bigly-er, or something. I dunno, I don’t really even know what I’m saying anymore. Anyway, as reward for your heroism, I present to you this check for one billion dollars. Also, I’m making you head of the FBI! Actually, no screw it, you’re president for life now!”

The president pulled me up in front of his podium and in front of the crowd, who broke out in thunderous applause.

“You’re the best agent I could’ve ever hired, and I suck compared to you!” Director Jacobs shouted. I had no words, I just stood there and looked down at the crowd, beaming.

“So, President Clancy, how does all this success feel?” the president asked. “Clancy? Clancy?”

“CLANCY!” Director Jacobs shouted, pulling me out of my daydream. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes! Do you have any dirt on the suspect yet?”

“Uh, yeah. I think I may have uncovered a plot to kill the president!” I explained.

“Woah.” Director Jacobs said. “That sounds like a pretty serious situation!”

“I know, right?” I said. “So we should definitely track this person down and bring them in so I can get my billion dollar check. Uh, I mean so I can become president for life. I mean, so I can win bigly, uh, I mean uh…”

“Okay okay, whatever! Just scoot over so I can see!” Jacobs said, shoving me out of the way and taking a look at the screen. “Hmm, well there’s a plot here, but it’s not to kill the president. More like ‘plot’ as in a story.”

“Huh?” puzzled, I looked at the computer. Since I’d been zoned out, I hadn’t noticed the user logging into their AO3 account and posting a new story. This story took place in the _Deadpool_ universe and was about a criminal from Cable’s time coming to our time to try and kill the president, with Cable trying to find a way to stop him. I think that was the hardest I’d ever slammed my face down on my keyboard; I’m surprised I didn’t break it. My skull I mean, those keys are practically indestructible.

“Bamboozled by fanfiction again. That’s a darn shame. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Jacobs said, putting a rather large Hello Kitty mask over his head. “I have a prior engagement.”

I crossed my arms and stewed at my desk like a child who just got put in time-out.

“As president for life, I declare fanfiction illegal.” I muttered in a pouty voice. “Anyone caught writing it is a stupid-head and has to eat mud.”

Though, I will admit that the Cable fic sounded intriguing and sure enough, it was actually not a bad read! Oh, come on Clancy what are you doing? Don’t fraternize with the enemy, that’s just what they _want_ you to do!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cable, Deadpool, and all related characters are the property of Marvel and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Hello Kitty is the property of Sanrio Co., Ltd.


	4. Ralph Breaks the Deep Web

About a month later, I’d been monitoring a pretty intriguing POI’s web activity. I may have been duped by fanfiction before, but I was _sure_ this time was different.

“Um, sir?” I said to Director Jacobs as he passed by my desk. “I think I’ve got a live one here.

Jacobs rolled his eyes. “Clancy, no offense, but you haven’t gotten a ‘live one’ the whole time you’ve been here. It always turns out to be fanfiction. _Always!_ I mean, just last week you were freaking out because you thought someone was trying to poison the British prime minister, and it just turned out to be a _Harry Potter_ fic where Death Eaters poison the prime minister with a magic potion!”

“Well I…” I trailed off, scratching the back of my head.

“And then just the other day, you thought someone was planning a heist on the Federal Reserve, but really they were just Googling research for a _Grand Theft Auto_ fic, where the main characters break into the Federal Reserve!”

“But sir, I think I really have something this time!” I pleaded.

“Ugh, fine I’ll humor you. What do you have this time, Agent Clancy?” Jacobs asked sarcastically.

“Well, I’ve been monitoring this woman’s web activity for a while, and I’ve gotten some pretty interesting data. Here, I documented all of it. First, I noticed her Googling ‘red rooms’.”

“So? That’s not out-of-the ordinary.” Jacobs said. “Some people have a fascination with things like that, it’s called ‘morbid curiosity.’”

“No no, she wanted specific _details_ on how to run them.” I professed. “Almost like she wanted to set one up herself!”

“Huh, intriguing.” Jacobs said. “Go on.”

“Then she entered this really sketchy looking chatroom where she started asking all sorts of questions on sites that sell drugs.” I said. “Where to buy them, how much each kind cost, tips on meeting suppliers, that kind of thing.”

“Uh huh.” Said Jacobs. “Maybe you _did_ stumble onto something after all! What else did she do?”

“Then, she went back to Google and began asking questions about how much trouble you could get into for “accidentally” accessing an illegal porn site.” I continued.

Jacobs’ eyes widened. “Wow, this chick’s just asking to be on a POI list, isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah.” I nodded. “And then we come to the final entry in her activity log: she downloaded the Tor browser! That was about nine hours ago. I lost her after that.”

“Ooh, the deep web! We both know what that means, don’t we?”

“Yup!” I beamed. “We may not be able to track her in there, but we don’t need to. Based on her actions before hand, I think it’s safe to say…”

“WE CAUGHT A CRIMINAL!” We both shouted in unison.

“I’m getting a bigger office, an automatic coffee-maker and a flatscreen!” Jacobs said. “What are you doing with your raise, Clancy?”

“I’m gonna build a pool for my kids in the backyard, then this July me and the wife are going to Antigua, baby!”

“Yeah!” We both cheered. “Go feds, go feds, it’s our birthday, it’s our birth-”

“Wait a minute!” I said, sitting back down at the computer. “She’s out of the deep web now. She just did something else.”

“Ooh, ooh, what is it?” Jacobs asked. “Is it a terror threat? A snuff film? Is she trying to hack into Pentagon databases?”

I shook my head, took a big gulp, and said, “ _Wreck-it Ralph 3: Lost in the Deep Web._ ”

I think I literally heard the gears in Jacobs’ head grind to a halt. He just stood there, face twitching and babbling gibberish. I continued to stare blindly into the screen, just, at a loss for what to even say or do. I mean, really lady? I sometimes wonder if fic writers _know_ we’re watching them and do this stuff just to mess with us!

About an hour later, Jacobs pulled up a chair and sat down at my desk, still trying to process the fact that he wasn’t getting that automatic coffee-maker, while I honestly was reading the story. I have to admit, the premise of Wreck-it Ralph in the deep web interested me!

“Huh,” I said. “You know, this story is actually a _lot_ tamer than I was expecting. The torture scenes aren’t really that gory, in fact most of it takes place on drug sites and conspiracy sites! There’s not even a mention of any illegal porn sites or anything, which is a relief because I thought the author was going to do some really _awful_ things to Vanellope and she’s my daughter’s favorite character and-”

“Clancy,” Jacobs snapped, hand on his forehead. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘let’s go get so drunk neither of us ever remember this day again’, I _don’t_ want to hear it.” 

We did go out drinking later, for the record. Of course, we both still remember that day. And we remember when we took our shirts off. And that mailbox I dry-humped. And that man in the alligator costume Jacobs kicked in the shin. And the fact that we both got fined for drunk and disorderly conduct. You see what you fanfiction writers do to us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Harry Potter_ and all related characters and events are the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
> 
>  _Grand Theft Auto_ is the property of Rockstar Games
> 
>  _Wreck-it Ralph_ and all related characters and events are the property of the Walt Disney Company


	5. LARP, An Ordeal: Criminal It Ain't

You know to be fair, it’s not just fan _fiction_ that has led me down the path to embarrassment, but fan activities in general. The most notable example that sticks out in my mind is the night I _swore_ I uncovered violent gang activity, but instead was introduced to the unique pastime of LARPing.

I’d just gotten home from work after a particularly rough day; I had dinner and then spent the rest of the night watching _Wreck-it Ralph_ with my daughter and _The Loud House_ with my son. My enjoyment of both programs was understandably compromised by recent events, but we shan’t discuss that! Anyway, once the kids were asleep, me and my wife Sarah laid down for what we thought would be a nice, peaceful sleep, when I was roused by lights outside. I peeked out the window and saw several trucks parked in my next-door neighbor’s driveway. I never saw much of my neighbor, but from what little I’d seen of him, I knew he was certainly a sketchy type.

“We still doing this?” my neighbor asked to a man walking up from one of the trucks.

“Yeah” the man replied. “The boss wants us all there at 1:00am sharp. Oh, and make sure you bring the guns, this _has_ to go off without a hitch!”

“Oh my God.” I said a bit louder than I meant to.

“Honey, what are you having a fit about?” Sarah asked groggily.

“Look outside.” I pointed. She huffed and sauntered over to the window.

“Sweetie, that’s probably just-”

“Gang activity!” I said. “I knew there was something suspicious about this guy! Hang on, I have to call for backup.”

“Do whatever you have to do, I’m going back to bed.” Sarah said. I’m glad Sarah was so enthusiastically in my corner. She knew that I had the situation under control and could rest easily with that knowledge.

Now, there was no use trying to call Director Jacobs; for whatever reason whenever I try to call his cell phone, it goes to voicemail after the first ring. Poor guy must live in an area with bad reception. So I dialed the local police department instead.

“Hello, is this the police department?” I said. “Hi, this is Federal Agent Samuel Clancy, and I’d like to report a-”

Huh, I lost connection. I have no luck with phones at all, it seems like the call always ends as soon as I dial. I tried again another ten times until they _finally_ stayed on the line long enough for me to tell them what was going on. The police chief sounded irritated; they must’ve been having phone problems too. Once I explained the situation, I quickly put on my bulletproof vest, grabbed my gun and badge and kissed my wife goodbye. She didn’t even look at me, had her hands on her temples and was shaking her head. Poor Sarah, she was scared for my life. Honestly, I was too.

By the time I got outside, the convoy of trucks had taken off down the street in a slow procession. I followed behind, but not _too_ closely; I didn’t want these thugs to know I was onto them. At one point, an RV pulled out in front of the trucks and appeared to take the lead. Where were they going exactly? Finally, the chief of police radioed me to tell me they’d arrived. 

“Agent Clancy, you better have something good for us this time!” he said. “We’re pulling a lot of men for this operation.”

“Don’t worry chief, given the amount of men in this gang, you’ll need all the officers you can pull for this.”

“Our guys have sight of the convoy, we’ll try to follow them as close as we can without drawing attention to ourselves.” The chief said. I could see the headlights of several SWAT vehicles in my rearview mirror, which made me feel much safer. Finally, the convoy turned right onto a small residential street, us still following from a safe distance, when the chief radioed me again.

“Wait, _this_ is what you called us out here for?” the chief asked. “Seriously, Clancy?”

“Look, I know it looks bad.” I reassured him. “But your SWAT team is the best of the best, I _know_ we can beat these crooks!”

“Wow. We all knew you were thick, but we didn’t think you were _this_ thick!” he said. “You know what those guys are doing out here, right? I mean, the whole town knows about this!”

“You’re right, this gang has been keeping these poor citizens in fear for too long. It’s time we ended it!” I said, attempting to boost the spirits of these terrified men.

“Okay, well why don’t you go ‘end’ it, we’re headed back to the station.” The chief said. With that, the SWAT vehicles turned around and left. Is this gang really that evil that it even scares away hardened police officers? Well, they weren’t scaring me! As the convoy stopped at an abandoned cul-de-sac a little ways down, I parked my car on the side of a nearby street, got out, and quietly snuck towards them, gun at the ready.

As I got closer, I could get a clearer glimpse of what was going on. All of the people in the RV were forced out and ordered onto their knees, the gang members surrounding them, holding their guns in a threatening posture. Standing over the victims was a man with slick black hair and a black leather jacket. He appeared to be taunting the victims with what looked like a bat with barbed wire wrapped around it. I knew I had to hurry before he hurt these people. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, being only one man, but maybe if I could cause a distraction, these people might be able to get away. There seemed to be enough of them to be able to take these guys. I was just gonna do it. Approaching the chainlink fence just beyond the cul-de-sac, I prepared to make my move.

“You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry.” The gang leader said, a twisted smile on his face. “Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that!” He raised the bat over one of the victims’ heads and prepared to bring it down on his skull. That’s when I intervened.

“FBI, DON’T MOVE!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, gun aimed directly at the leader. “DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!” To my surprise, all of them put their weapons down and complied. I moved in and quickly placed the leader in handcuffs.

“Ow, what the hell are you doing?” he said, in not _nearly_ as deep of a voice as he just used. Yeah, not such a tough guy when you’re in cuffs, are you?

“Dude, what is your problem?” one of the other gang leaders said. I looked around and everyone looked surprised. Even the victims had baffled looks on their faces, as if they weren’t expecting some brave hero to come in and save them at the last minute.

“Chief, this is Clancy.” I said into my radio. “I have the situation neutralized, requesting backup.”

“Clancy, what did you do?” the chief said.

“I took them all down! They’re here waiting to be arrested!” I answered.

“We’re not coming out there. Good night.” He said. I guess he was still too horrified. Oh well, I could handle this if maybe I could load all the perps into the RV. Maybe there were zipties or some tape I could use for their hands. But first, I had to tend to the victims.

“Is everyone okay?” I asked.

“We were never _not_ okay, idiot!” one of them said. “Now let our friend go!”

“Friend?” I answered, confused. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re LARPers, genius!” The gang leader answered.

“LARPers? What’s that?”

“L-A-R-P. Live Action Role-Playing.” He explained. “It’s where you dress up in costume and act out scenes from your favorite fandom! We were re-creating a scene from _The Walking Dead_ where Negan first shows up!”

“Oh.” I said as I un-cuffed Fake-Negan. “That actually sounds kinda fun, to be honest!”

“Well, it _was_.” A victim said, rolling her eyes.

“Look guys, I’m sorry about all this.” I explained. “But how was I supposed to know this was all fake?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Fake-Negan said. “Maybe the bright-orange caps on the ends of all the clearly toy-guns should’ve tipped you off. Or the fact that there are billboards and signs all over town advertising this event at this exact spot and time!”

“Um…well, you see…we all make mistakes, okay?” I said, putting away my gun and walking away. “Again, sorry for the disruption, enjoy your LARCing!”

“LARPing!” they all shouted.

Yeah, next morning was pretty rocky at work. A clearly hungover Director Jacobs explained that Fake-Negan called last night and reported me. I got an official reprimand for, in Jacobs’ words, “being Clancy, again”, and I couldn’t take my radio or gun home with me anymore. But, on the plus side I _did_ discover LARPing, which is a ton of fun! I even met up with the same people I almost arrested and did several reenactments with them! But they always cast me as the character that gets killed for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Walking Dead_ , Negan, and all related characters and events are the property of AMC.
> 
> "Fake Negan's" dialogue right before Clancy reveals himself is a direct line from _The Walking Dead_ and is therefore property of AMC.


	6. Clancy Catches a Break...Sort Of

Let me switch gears for a minute and discuss a time when it looked like fanfiction was actually going to _help_ me. Uh, emphasis on _looked like_. My cousin, Agent Patricia White, was part of the Joint Terrorism Task Force: basically a division of the FBI that specializes in combating terrorism. Essentially while my role’s more of a desk job, she actually gets to go out and get the bad guys!

She’d been on the trail of one particular domestic terrorist for some time now: an anarchist extremist named Brea Vallek. Vallek despised government in all forms and sought to bring it down, starting with her own. Patricia had recently gotten a tip that Vallek had stolen a dangerous nerve toxin from the military, and let me come along to help apprehend her. Uh, off the books of course; this wasn’t my jurisdiction and she could easily lose her job for “letting Clancy too close to a dangerous criminal.” That’s actually a fire-able offense in our handbook!

“She went this way!” Patricia shouted as the two of us pursued Brea through a parking garage, where we believed her escape vehicle to be. Finally, we cornered her, guns both aimed at her as she raised the vial of nerve toxin above her head.

“Stay back!” Vallek shouted. “One more step, I drop this, and the whole city dies!”

Patricia laughed. “You really think we’d store the most dangerous chemical weapon in the country in something as flimsy as glass? Please, that vial is made out of high-quality, reinforced plastic.”

“Ha! You think I can’t tell the difference between plastic and glass?” Vallek shouted. “You feds are dumber than I thought.” Patricia fired a shot at the ground near Vallek’s feet, scaring her into dropping the vial, which bounced a little but did not break.

“Huh, I guess it _was_ plastic.” Vallek said.

“Yeah, it’s plastic, scumbag!” I shouted, firing at the ground too. Both women gave me a confused, irritated look.

“Uh, Sam, just because I shoot, that doesn’t mean you need to shoot too.” Patricia huffed.

“Oh. Well, just reminding Miss ‘Anarchy’ here who she’s dealing with!” I said, sticking my gun in the side of my pants, which I immediately regretted. I think I yelped a little and tensed up.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Patricia asked.

“Barrel’s still hot!”

“You don’t have a holster for that?” asked Patricia as she began to cuff Brea.

“I didn’t think FBI agents carried them.” I admitted.

“Of course we do! _Who_ exactly trained you again?”

“Director Harvey Jacobs.” I answered.

“And therein lies the problem.” Patricia said, shaking her head. “How that man got an authority position, I’ll never know.” Patricia led Vallek outside to her car and placed her in the back.

“Well, I’m gonna get this one to jail and then I guess I’ll head home.” Patricia said. “Jennifer’s making her ‘world famous’ lasagna again and I don’t want to be late for the indigestion.”

“Your wife can _not_ cook, can she?” I said with a laugh.

“No, but the poor thing enjoys it so much, I don’t have the heart to tell her.” Patricia said. “Anyway, hop in and I’ll drop you off at your place, _after_ we take care of our terrorist friend.”

A few days later, Patricia had gone back to her headquarters, Brea Vallek was awaiting trial for a _slew_ of charges, and I returned to my mundane desk job monitoring browsing activity. Little did I know that things were about to get really nutty really fast.

“Heard about your little escapade with Agent White.” Director Jacobs said, popping up out of nowhere and scaring the living daylights out of me.

“Sir! Uh, how’d you find out about that?” I asked nervously.

“We’re the federal government, Clancy. We have cameras everywhere!” Jacobs said. “Anyway, I won’t tell anyone about it as long as _you_ don’t tell anyone about my little incident Thursday with the zebra, the clown and the dirtbike.”

“Um…I didn’t know about that until just now but whatever, sure!” I said. Wanting this conversation to end, I turned back to my computer and immediately noticed something jarring. A message board between two anonymous users.

**Anon1:** Those two idiot FBI agents thought they could contain me? They don’t know who they’re dealing with.

**Anon2:** Excellent, you’ll kill them I just know it!

**Anon1:** Oh I’ll kill everyone. The world has yet to see what I’m capable of! 

**Anon2:** And when they do, everything’s going to change.

**Anon1:** Meet me at the usual spot. It’s time we put our plans into action.

“Get Agent White on the phone, now!” Jacobs ordered. I fumbled for the phone and dialed her.

“Ugh, Nausea Residence.” A sick-sounding Patricia answered.

“Patricia, it’s Sam. There’s something I need you to see!” I said.

“Can it wait? I’ve come down with a serious case of ‘Jennifer’s Homemade Alfredo.’ She said.

“Oh, is that Sam?” I could hear Jennifer’s voice in the background. “Hi Sam! Poor Patty’s sick again so we can’t do it this weekend, but next Saturday you wanna come over and try my signature orange chicken?”

“If you value your digestive system, say no.” Patricia whispered.

“Look, just get down here now!” I said. “There’s something you _really_ have to see!” Within about an hour, Patricia was at the headquarters; I explained exactly what I saw and showed her the computer screen. She examined it for a brief moment before calling me and Jacobs over.

“Alright, so we’re gonna have to call some people in.” Patricia said.

“I _knew_ this was serious!” Jacobs said. “Who?”

“Medical practitioners to examine your heads!” Patricia snapped. “Next time, try scrolling up to the top of the page!” I looked at the screen and saw the rest of the conversation.

**Anon1:** Hey, I thought up of some new dialogue for my X-Files fic, as my co-writer I figured you should hear it!

**Anon2:** Sure, lay it on me!

**Anon1:** Okay, this is for the scene where the human/alien hybrid has just escaped Agent Mulder and Scully’s custody.

**Anon2:** Awesome, let’s see what ya got!

**Anon1:** Those two idiot FBI agents thought they could contain me? They don’t know who they’re dealing with.

“See?” Patricia said, throwing her hands up. “It’s just fanfiction, _yet again_. I promise the both of you, Brea Vallek is in a secure federal facility. Are we done here?”

“Wait, wait just a second.” I said, holding my hand up. “A criminal as intelligent as Vallek would _know_ that we stumble across a lot of fanfiction, right? So wouldn’t it make sense that she’d hide her activities in plain sight, under the guise of pitching dialogue for a fanfiction?”

“Brilliant deduction, Clancy!” Jacobs said. “Who would’ve thought? C’mon, let’s see if we can extract more clues from this thread.”

“No, guys I literally interrogated Vallek this morning.” Patricia said. “She’s still locked up!”

“Not now, Patty!” I said. “We’re doing government stuff here.”

“Uh, excuse me. Only one person is allowed to call me Patty and you’re not her so…”

“Alright, what does the rest of this say?” Jacobs asked as we examined the computer.

**Anon1:** Wanna hear another?

**Anon2:** Sure, this is good!

**Anon1:** Protocol Icarus will be initiated at precisely 1800 hours, at the place where ‘angels’ congregate.

**Anon2:** What are ‘angels’ again?

**Anon1:** An alien race I made up.

**Anon2:** Metal.

**Anon1:** Thanks.

“Aha!” I said. “Trying to hide your evil plans in a fic board are we? ‘Alien race’ my ass, we’ve got you now, Vallek!”

“Protocol Icarus, what’s that?” Jacobs asked.

“Well, according to ‘Flight of the Greeks’, a _Percy Jackson_ fanfiction I recently read, Icarus was a winged man whose wings were held together by wax.” I explained. “One day he flew too close to the sun and the wax melted, sending him to his death. So her plan must involve using heat to destroy something that flies. Oh no, she’s got a bomb planted on an airplane! Maybe several!”

“Or, this is just a freaking FANFICTION plot you idiots!” Patricia yelled.

“Patty, we know what we’re doing!” I reassured.

“Call me Patty one more time…”

“Alright, what else does this say?” I said. “1800 hours, I know from various military fics that’s military time for 6:00pm. ‘Place where angels congregate.’ Hmm, that’s a stumper. Wait! I got it: ‘Replicant Runaway’, a _Blade Runner_ fic, described Los Angeles as the ‘city of angels.’”

“Vallek’s going after LAX!” Jacobs said.

“Wait, how in the hell did you deduce all that?” Patricia asked, confused.

“Fanfiction!” I said. “I guess it’s good for the feds after all!”

Director Jacobs called the Los Angeles International Airport and ordered them to ground all flights and have a bomb squad check every plane, especially the ones scheduled to depart at 6:00pm. Yeah, they didn’t find anything. The news story later didn’t make things much better.

“And in what was an embarrassing moment for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, several flights were delayed at the Los Angeles International Airport after a federal agent tipped off the airport about an alleged bomb threat that turned out to be unfounded. This left several passengers, as well as flight crews, upset and angry.”

Director Jacobs and I felt pretty silly about the whole incident. We _really_ thought we had something here! But you know what they say: fanfiction giveth, fanfiction taketh away. I was pretty bummed until Patricia approached me a little later.

“Pretty embarrassing, huh?” she said snarkily, sipping a can of soda. 

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be the first time.” I said.

“You know, despite the fact that you got just about everything dead wrong, that was some damn fine detective work you did back there, piecing everything together like that!” she complemented.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah! I mean, if you could actually get the details right and _catch_ criminals, you’d make a hell of field agent!” Patricia said.

“Thanks Agent White.” I said.

“Sam, we’re family. Call me Patricia.” She said, hugging me. “But if you _ever_ call me Patty again, you’re gonna be praying for that burn you got from your gun, got it?”

Now that I think about it, Patricia was right, I _was_ a good detective, and I knew that I could actually solve real crimes, if only I’d quit getting duped by fanfiction all the time. Which was a good thing because about a month later, Brea Vallek really _did_ escape. Ooh, _who_ was right? I mean yeah, I got the time, location and details wrong, but _who was right!?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The X-Files_ , Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, and all related characters and events are the property of the Fox Broadcasting Company.
> 
> The _Percy Jackson_ film series is the property of 20th Century Fox.
> 
> _Blade Runner_ is the property of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.


	7. The Gold Standard (of Stupidity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a scene where a woman appears to be forcibly abducted on an internet video. But then again, it's _this_ series, it's a safe bet she's okay!

While Patricia and her team went after Vallek ( _who_ was right about her escaping!?), I returned to business as usual monitoring web activity, which as usual turned up nothing surprising. There were a couple of “leads” that turned out to be nothing; not fanfiction again, just me not having all the details. I also did spend an inordinate amount of time on AO3. Certainly not to update WIPs because I’ve taken a fondness to the hobby, no sir! I was just…uh, making sure no new stories were being posted that I could mistake for crimes! Yeah, that’s it.

Then, I came across an odd video on a Reddit thread with the heading “CHECK THIS OUT: DISCOVERED ON THE DARK WEB.” I scrolled down and it appeared to be a harmless-looking blog by a sweet-looking redhead college girl. Curiosity piqued, I clicked Play.

“What’s up everyone? This is Barbara, doing a huge shout-out to my friends Bruce, Dick, and my daddy Jim.” She said in a very perky voice. “Just wanted to let everyone know what’s been going on with my life lately. That fight with Pamela was nothing to worry about, just so you all know. I can cut through her nonsense with the best of them.”

She went on and on for about fifteen minutes about her life, which oddly seemed to include a lot of fights, when suddenly a man dressed head-to-toe like the Joker busted in her door, put his hand over her mouth and carried her out of the room. The camera then cut to the both of them in what looked like a dark, dingy warehouse with her tied up in the background and him sitting in front of the camera, a wide and creepy smile on his face.

“You and I have done this long enough to know how this whole thing works.” The man said, doing a _really bad_ Mark Hamill impression. “If you ever want to see your precious Barbara again, you’ll deliver $500,000 worth of gold to this exact spot. I’m sure you can figure out the location on your own, you are the world’s greatest detective!” The man cackled like a psychopath for a few seconds and the video stopped.

“J-J-JACOBS!!!” I shouted, sprinting towards his office.

“Alright tell me, Buzzfeed, which genderbent, 80-year-old, Martian, opossum version of a Disney Princess _am_ I?” I could hear him say before I flung the door open.

“Sir, you have to come quick!” I said as the surprised man quickly closed his browser.

“For Christ’s sake, doesn’t anyone knock in this place!?” He questioned. “This better be good, Clancy!” I showed him the video, and he honestly looked about as shocked as I was.

“Disturbing, very disturbing.” He said. “Did you happen to trace it?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s coming from a small town in Nevada. I’m sure there can’t be that many warehouses there so she should be easy to find.”

“Good, I’ll call the local authorities and have them-”

“Wait, wait!” I said, putting my hand on his phone to lower it. “Haven’t you seen the movies? If the perp sees cops coming, he’ll kill her!”

“Clancy, I’ve got two words for you: SWAT sniper.” Jacobs said. “We’ll take him down before he even knows what hit him.”

“But don’t _you_ want to be the one who saves her?” I asked. “Don’t you want to be the dashing hero who saves the damsel in distress and gets recognized?”

“No, I want to be a federal agent who does his job and keeps the public safe.” Jacobs said. “Now if you’ll just let me-”

“No!” I said, grabbing at his phone.

“Clancy let go!”

“No _you_ let go!”

“Give that back, stupid head!”

“Ugly!”

“Booger-eater!”

I gasped. “You take that back!” 

“Okay fine,” an exasperated Jacobs said. “What’s _your_ plan?”

“Okay, we’re gonna get the gold and put it in duffel bags. Then, we’re going to walk through the doors of the warehouse and act like we’re handing over the ransom.”

“Wait, if we’re doing that, why don’t we just take empty duffel bags and pretend they have gold in them?” Jacobs questioned.

“Ahem, we act like we’re handing over the ransom, then when he goes in to grab it, we whip out our guns, order him onto the ground and walk out with one not-dead hostage!” I proudly explained. “And that’s how The Clance gets it done.”

“Okay first of all, don’t call yourself ‘The Clance.’” Jacobs said. “Second of all, this stupid plan is never going to work! I’m just going to call the local police and have them deal with it.”

“Sir, remember that thing you asked me never to tell anyone about with the clown and the zebra and the dirtbike? Even though I still have _no idea_ what any of that means?” I smiled. “It’d be a shame if word was to get out about that.”

“Damn it, fine. You know I hate you, right?”

“I know, I can feel your urge to murder me every time I come in.” I said. Before long, the two of us were in a car headed east, had to pick up a little something before we headed to the warehouse.

“So, if the IP address was traced to Nevada,” Jacobs asked. “Why are we going to New York?”

“Gotta get the gold first!” I answered.

“You _can’t_ be serious.” He said. “Clancy, the Federal Reserve Bank isn’t just going to hand over $500,000 worth of gold to two random feds!”

“Hi, I’m Agent Clancy, this is Director Jacobs, of the FBI.” I explained to the guard at the bank. “We’re trying to rescue a hostage on the other side of the country in an incredibly convoluted scheme to get recognized as badass heroes, can we have about $500,000 dollars worth of gold bars?”

“Sure, take as much as you need.” The guard said, to Jacobs’ surprise. Within no time, the two of us were inbound to Nevada. Finally reaching the town where the video was recorded, it didn’t take us long to find the warehouse. Parking a little ways away, the two of us trudged up towards the building with the gold, hoping the night would conceal us until we reached it.

“So, why are we doing this by ourselves?” Jacobs asked. “Shouldn’t we at least have police backup or something?”

“Because if one of them takes the bad guy down, _he_ gets recognized, not us!” I said. “Besides, The Clance doesn’t need backup!”

“Is that going to be a regular thing?” said Jacobs.

“Depends.” I said. “Let’s see how well it catches on.”

“So far, not well.” Said Jacobs. We pushed open the doors to the warehouse and stepped inside; to our surprise it was dark and quiet, no sign of any criminal activity.

“Hello?” I shouted. “We have your gold, now let Barbara go!”

No response.

“I know what you’re probably feeling.” I said. “Anger, fear, a sudden craving for a marinara sub from Subway, and trust me I’ve been there too. But this isn’t the way to handle it so just let her go, take the gold and we all walk away from this!”

“Clancy, I don’t think there’s anyone here.” Jacobs said.

“Sure there is, we just have to find them.” I said. We searched the entire warehouse and the surrounding property and didn’t find anyone. No sign of a hostage, no evidence of any recent long-term activity, nothing. This didn’t make sense. I _knew_ that last video was filmed here, what were we missing?

“Well, he must’ve moved on.” I said as I sat down against the wall next to Jacobs. 

“Maybe it’s already over.” Jacobs said. “Maybe the local police already got him and saved her, like I _said_ they would!”

“Hey, you could’ve tried to talk me out of this!” I said.

“I _did_.” Said Jacobs. “But you wouldn’t listen because that’s not what ‘The Clance’ does.”

“Hey, The Clance listens only to himself, alright?” I said. “The Clance is a free spirit!”

“Well, too much more lip like that and you can be a ‘free spirit’ in the unemployment office.” Jacobs snapped. The both of us were startled by a sudden buzz to my cell phone. It was a text from one of the other agents in my department, that read “hey doofuses, check out a behind-the-scenes video from the hostage’s channel!”

I clicked on the attached video and it showed Barbara again, giving the same speech she did before. The guy dressed like the Joker busted in and abducted her before, but this time the scene didn’t change.

“Cut!” Barbara said as her and her abductor walked back into the room, both smiling. “That was good, I think I’ll use that one.” 

“I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I babe?” The kidnapper asked.

“No, you did good! Remember: the Joker is kidnapping Barbara Gordon to get back at Batman for beating him all those times.” The girl explained. “He’s gonna be kind of aggressive. Awesome, now we just need to film that little bit at the warehouse and the video trailer for my Batman fanfic will be finished! Oh, don’t forget to put this on your Reddit page and say it was found on the dark web. You know, stir up hype for the story!”

“Damn, bamboozled by fanfiction again!” I said, leaning my head back against the wall.

“Well, you live and you learn, I guess. I believed it too, to be honest.” Jacobs said, before peering over at the dufflebags full of gold. “You know, we _did_ get permission to take possession of that gold.”

“And we _are_ in Nevada!” I said, catching what he was suggesting.

“I’m thinking Vegas?” he said.

“Let’s do it, boss man!” I said, tossing him the keys. And that’s the story of how two federal agents lost $500,000 worth of government gold, their car, and their suits because neither of them were nearly as good at Craps as they thought they were!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! Hope you're enjoying the series so far, it's been really fun writing it! I just wanted to let you know that there will be a total of 10 chapters in this series and I have a clear plan for the finale (let's just say, I didn't make Brea Vallek escape for no reason). I plan on uploading a chapter a day, but some may be a day or so late depending on what life does. Anyway, I hope you're enjoying this series and stay tuned to see what kind of hijinks Agent Clancy finds himself in next! Now for that disclaimer I gotta put in...
> 
> _Batman_ and all related characters and events are the property of DC Comics and Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.


	8. Why the CIA Hates Fanfiction-Writing Feds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I start, I want to give a shout-out to StephaniD, who pitched an idea to me that I used for this chapter. I was honestly stuck on what to write for this chapter so thank you!

Now, before you claim that being tricked by fanfiction is exclusive only to _our_ department (or the FBI in general for that matter), consider this tale, where I was actually on the _receiving_ end of a little misinterpretation of browsing habits due to fanfiction. The perspective of my pursuer was relayed to me later in intelligence reports, just in case you start thinking I’m a psychic that can see what people are thinking and doing. Wouldn’t that be so awesome though? It’d make my job a lot easier! Anyway, it was my last day at the office before the family and I left for Florida for a week, and I was just wrapping up some last-minute business. 

“What are you doing?” Director Jacobs said, coming up behind me. I swear we need to put a bell on that guy.

“Uh, nothing sir. Just going over some statistic-logistical, finance um, criminal history…file things.” I stammered.

“You were on Archive of Our Own, weren’t you?” he said with a sly grin on his face. “Oh my God, you’re writing _fanfiction!_ Even after all the trouble it causes you?”

“Okay okay, fine.” I said. “It’s fun, okay? At first it was annoying the hell out of me because it was stopping me from solving actual crimes, but the more I read and the more I learned about the hobby, the more I loved it.”

Jacobs laughed. “Well, be that as it may, you still can’t use the office computer to write it. I’m going to have to file a report.” 

“Really? Well I thought you _also_ weren’t allowed to use the facial reconstruction software to see what you’d look like as every gender, race, and age, and then make a collage of those images as your desktop wallpaper!”

“Um…carry on.” Jacobs said, eyes darting back and forth. “By the way, I saw your username, ‘TheClance76.’ You’re seriously pushing for that nickname, aren’t you?”

“Aha, there you are!” I heard a voice shout at the other end of the hall. I turned and saw a man in a black suit and sunglasses walking towards me. “Federal Agent Samuel Clancy?”

“Uh, yeah?” I said.

“Agent Dennis Cox of the CIA.” The man said, flashing his badge. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about your browsing habits. Our agency has noticed some pretty clear red flags coming from your device.”

“Well yeah, I’m an FBI agent in the Internet Monitoring Division.” I defended. “There’s gonna be some pretty shocking things shown on this screen!”

“No, I’m talking about your _personal_ device.” Agent Cox said, whipping out a tablet device. “Let’s see: ‘How to build a pipe bomb’, ‘Where on a plane is the best place to put a pipe bomb’, ‘How to incapacitate pilots without anyone noticing’, ‘Why pineapple _does_ belong on a pizza’!? That last one sealed it for us. We had to take action.”

“Okay, okay, look. All those searches were just research for a fanfiction story I’m writing.” I said. “The villain hijacks a plane and puts a pipe bomb on it, trust me!”

“Besides, I’ve been working with this guy for some time now!” Jacobs stepped in.

“Thanks for being in my corner, sir-”

“He’s _far_ too incompetent to plot a bombing or hijacking!” Jacobs said.

“On second thought, I think I can hold my own here.” I said.

“Yeah, not buying it.” Agent Cox said. “We don’t have enough evidence to arrest you, but I just wanted to come down here and let you know we have our eyes on you.” He did the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture and backed out towards the door, tripping over the janitor’s mop bucket and getting his pants soaked.

“Don’t worry about him.” Jacobs said. “The CIA and FBI are bitter rivals. Ever since we formed our own antiterrorist division, they’ve accused us of ‘muscling in on their turf.’ They’ll look for any excuse to arrest one of us!”

“I just know that guy’s trouble.” Agent Cox apparently said of me once he got outside our office. “I’m gonna stakeout his home tonight, see what evidence I can dig up.” His train of thought was interrupted by a loud horn.

“Hey nutbag, quit talking to yourself and move out of the street!” An angry bus driver shouted.

Later that night, after the kids were in bed and all our luggage was packed, I was busy plotting out the next chapter of my story, while Sarah was getting ready for bed.

“Still writing on that fanfic?” she asked from the bathroom. “Remember our rule about not working on that on vacation, right?”

“I know, I’m stumped on this latest chapter though.” I said with a heavy sigh, staring at the computer, just at a loss for what to write.

“Well let me see if I can help you.” Sarah said, walking up behind me.

“Okay, as you know, this is the scene where my OC protagonist finds out about the plot to hijack the plane and blow it up in midair.” I explained. “I have the two main terrorists in the cockpit and a few others watching the passengers, but I’m stuck on the details.”

Just outside, Agent Cox pulled up in a black van full of surveillance equipment and powered on a state-of-the-art audio listening device.

“Alright Clancy, if that is your real name, let’s see exactly what you’re up to in there.” He said, calibrating the device to pick up on our voices.

“It sounds like you have most of the major details hammered out.” Sarah said. “You just need to figure out how many other terrorists you want on the job, and where to put the bomb.”

“Woah, his wife’s in on it too?” Agent Cox said. “This goes further than I thought.”

“I need to place the bomb where it’s going to kill the most people.” I said. “Perhaps in the center of the plane in one of the overhead compartments.”

“But the plane’s thousands of feet in the air.” Sarah said. “Everyone’s going to die when it explodes regardless.”

“You’re right.” I said. “Why don’t I just place it in the cockpit when my two main guys take out the pilots, then I’ll have, say, five or so others watch the passengers.”

“This whole thing’s coming together smoothly.” said Sarah. Agent Cox shut off the device, having heard what he believed to be enough.

“Alright, I’ll just add in the HTML and upload that chapter right now!” I said. “Hopefully that’ll be more than enough the last the readers while we’re gone. Okay, I’m gonna go brush my teeth and head on to bed!”

“I’m not gonna take a chance on you hurting innocent people.” Agent Cox said as he stormed out of the van, screwing a silencer onto his gun and aiming it at our window. “I’m just gonna take you out right now!” He stepped forward to get a better shot, but didn’t realize he stepped right into a bush with a sleeping opossum in it. The animal shot up like a rocket and pounced at Cox’s face, clawing at him in a frenzy.

“Ahh! Ahh! Get it off! Get it off!” he screamed. “I need this face to seduce hot villainesses with!” He fell back against the van, head smacking against the side and fell unconscious. The next morning, the family and I loaded up the car and excitably hopped in, ready to get this vacation started.

“Alright guys, who’s ready for Disney World?” I shouted, to which Sarah and the kids cheered eagerly. “That’s what I thought. Next stop: the airport!”

Agent Cox was jarred awake by the sound of our garage door opening. Stirring from his daze, he got up just in time to see our car begin to back out of the driveway. He quickly scooped up his gun and leapt in the driveway behind us, aiming for the back of my seat.

“Move your head, kid!” He said as my son kept blocking his shot. Suddenly our car jolted backwards, causing him to leap into the bushes out of the way.

“You hit the gas a little hard, honey.” Sarah said.

“Sorry, just trying to fix this garbage backup camera.” I said, angrily pounding on the screen, which finally came on. “Ah, there we go!” We pulled out of the garage and started down the road.

“You won’t get away from me _that_ easily!” Agent Cox threatened. Unfortunately for him, he dove into the _same_ bush the opossum was in, and it was still there.

“Ahh! Damn it, not again!” he shouted as it attacked his face.

Later, we had all boarded the plane and had been in the air for a while. However, at a certain point I noticed the plane beginning to jostle and shake, as if something was wrong in the cockpit.

“Sweetie, why does that keep happening?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like turbulence.” I said. “I’m gonna go have a word with the pilot.” I got up and, very carefully, opened the door to the cockpit; I was shocked to find the seats empty. I was even _more_ shocked to find the pilot and copilot standing just behind the seats, their arms outstretched as if they were trying to balance themselves.

“What the hell is going on in here?” I asked.

“We’re about to hit some pretty serious turbulence.” The pilot said. “And _this_ loser thinks he can stay standing up longer than me!”

“Oh, we’ll see who’s the loser when I totally pown your ass!” replied the copilot.

“You are _so_ going down!” The pilot said.

“Guys, this seems extremely dangerous!” I pointed out.

“Eh, put your seatbelt on, side exits, secure your mask before the child, blah blah blah, you’ll be fine.” The copilot said. Suddenly, the turbulence hit and the entire plane shook violently. All the passengers screamed and I held onto the door frame for dear life.

“Woo! This is nothing!” The copilot said, still maintaining his balance.

“Same, this is gonna be a piece of ca-” Before the pilot could clap back, the plane shook again and _both_ the pilot and copilot were sent flying into the wall, knocking them out cold.

“Well…that’s not good!” I said. I turned around to face the passengers and asked, “Does anyone on here know how to fly a plane?”

No response. Everyone either gave me a blank stare or continued messing with their phones.

“I _said_ does anyone know how to fly a plane!?” I shouted again, and once again received no response. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Nervously, I climbed back into the cockpit and sat down at the pilot’s chair. Looking down at the controls, I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of buttons and gauges.

“Um…okay Clancy, you can do this!” I shakily attempted to reassure myself. “It’s probably just like driving a car. Except that car’s thousands of feet in the air and one mistake could kill approximately fifty people, but no pressure!”

At the same time, Agent Cox emerged from the overhead compartment in which he’d been hiding, prompting puzzled looks from the passengers. He crept slowly to the cockpit and peered in. Seeing the two incapacitated pilots, and me flying the plane, he put two and two together to equal five.

“Aha! Hijacker!” he said, lunging at me. Cox pushed me out of the seat, which also pushed the wheel of the plane and caused it to bank left hard. The two of us wrestled and struggled near the controls, me trying to regain control and him trying to pull me away, each move sending the plane further and further off course.

“You’re under arrest for hijacking a plane!” Agent Cox said.

“ _You’re_ double under arrest for assaulting a federal agent!” I replied.

“You’re triple under arrest!” he said.

“You’re under arrest times infinity!” I replied.

“You’re under arrest times _double_ infinity!” he said.

“Ha! There is no double infinity so I win!” I bragged. “Now get off me, I need to get this thing back on course!”

“What, so you can crash it into a building or blow it up?” Agent Cox accused. “Tell me where the pipe bomb is! I know you and your wife hid it somewhere on this plane.”

“There _is_ no pipe bomb!” I said. “I told you that was all for fanficiton!”

“Oh don’t give me that tired excuse again!” He said. “Tell me where it is or I’ll beat the answers out of you!”

“I’m telling the truth!” I said, holding up my phone. “See for yourself.”

“What’s this?” he asked.

“My AO3 account.” I explained. “It’s the chapter I wrote last night on my story. I think you’ll find the answers you need on there.”

“‘TheClance76’? That’s a stupid username.” He said.

“JUST READ!” I shouted.

Agent Cox read, mouthing certain details as he went. “Let’s see…hijackers…guys watching passengers…pipe bomb…hero sneaks on board…beats up terrorists…well damn it you’re right! Here I was thinking I was about to stop a terrorist when it was just an innocent fanficiton writer!”

“Trust me, if I had a nickel for every time _that_ thought went through my head.” I said.

“Agent Clancy, I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused.” Cox said.

“It’s okay, but I do have one question: who the hell’s flying this thing?” we both noticed that the plane was still off course and in a nosedive. I hopped into the pilot’s seat desperately trying to correct it when Cox tapped me on the shoulder.

“Here, move. I know what to do.” He said, gaining control.

“You know how to fly a plane?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was a pilot before I became a spy.” He said. “Have a seat and learn from the master.” As Cox steered the plane back on course, he showed me what all the buttons did and what the gauges meant, as well as what to do if anything like this happens again. Finally, the plane landed successfully at the Orlando International Airport and everyone stepped off safely. As Cox and I exited, a familiar, angry voice shouted at us.

“YOU!” Director Jacobs shouted. “I can’t believe what the agency heard over those radios! I oughta have you both arrested!”

“Look, sir, I know we bumped the plane off course and almost got everyone killed, but that wouldn’t have happened if-” I started.

“Not you, I was talking to _them._ ” He pointed behind us to the pilot and copilot who, dizzily, stumbled off the plane. “What kind of pilots endanger their crew and passengers with something so stupid as a ‘try to stand up during turbulence’ challenge!? You two will be lucky to be flying cropdusters when I’m done with you!”

“As for you Agent Clancy,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You and Agent Cox did a fine job stepping in to save the day like that. Major props to both of you! Maybe you’re not such a screw up after all.”

“Well Agent Clancy, I guess this case is closed.” Agent Cox said. “I guess I’d better head back to the agency now. Still, I feel bad for giving you so much grief. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Can you give me the intelligence reports of your time spent chasing me in case I decide to tell this story so I don’t look like a psychic when I describe things you did when I wasn’t around?” I asked.

“Sure thing.” He replied. Once all the drama was over, the family and I had a pretty awesome trip at Disney. At the same time, I learned how to fly a plane, that opossums are the unsung heroes of the neighborhood, and just how dangerous it can be to be a fanfiction writer. I have a new respect for you guys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Walt Disney World is a registered trademark of the Walt Disney Company.


	9. Hooray for Clancy!

Well, it appeared that my internet-monitoring _finally_ struck big! I noticed quite a suspicious amount of video footage from street cameras in a town in Illinois, of young adults being led away by mysterious people in hooded black robes. The latest piece of footage showed them all being herded into what looked like an old farmhouse. Granted, no missing-persons cases have been filed, but our agency knows the tell-tale signs of human trafficking when we see it!

Myself, Director Jacobs, and about six SWAT guys closed in on the farmhouse, with me volunteering to go in to confront them first because, you know, The Clance. Jacobs of course tried to stop me, calling the idea “reckless and stupid” but again, The Clance. I slowly opened the door, gun drawn, and poked my head in.

“Anyone here? FBI. Come out with your hands raised!” I shouted.

“Okay, they’re here. Fifteen minutes late.” I heard a voice say from downstairs. “Get in your positions.” I crept across the living room and into the hallway towards the basement door and tiptoed down the stairs. As I got closer to the bottom, I could see that there were about five hostages, duct taped to lawn chairs. A robed figure stood behind each, and one stood in the center of all of them, holding a dagger. There was a crudely drawn pentagram on the floor with candles on each point of the star. In the corner, a man in a t-shirt and jeans was recording the whole ordeal. This wasn’t a case of human trafficking, this was a case of human _sacrifice!_

“Oh mighty Lucifer!” The central figure said, raising the dagger into the air. “Please accept these five sacrifices, and in return grant us untold supernatural powers! By your glory is this blood spilt!”

“By your glory is this blood spilt!” The five other figures chanted in unison.

“The Devil’s gonna have to wait, because you’ve got a date with justice!” I shouted, gun aimed at the central figure. “Wow, that one-liner sounded a lot cooler in my head.”

“Ah, you’re here federal agent!” The cult leader said. “Or should I say, Mr. Winchester!”

“Gee, where’s your partner?” Another said through gritted teeth, as though he _really_ expected there to be two of us. “Wasn’t he supposed to be here?”

“Um, I don’t know who you were expecting, but The Clance works alone!” I said.

“No you don’t.” Jacobs said over the radio, to which I quickly shushed.

“Should we keep filming?” a cultist muttered to the cameraman.

“Yup, if George didn’t wanna do this, it’s his loss.” The cameraman replied.

“Um…okay, uh, attack my loyal followers!” the leader yelled. The other five guys rushed me and, realizing they were unarmed, I holstered my pistol and prepared to fight mano a mano. I punched the first one in the face as hard as I could, sending him flying back into a hostage, knocking her out cold.

“Uh, sorry ma’am!” I shouted.

“What the hell?” The leader said, confused. Before they had time to react, I roundhouse-kicked another cultist, which unfortunately landed on another hostage. Yeah, this probably wasn’t a good idea in close-quarters because every bad guy I beat up somehow fell back on a hostage, knocking them out. One of them took out a hostage and the cameraman! Finally, only the leader was left standing. I drew my pistol and held him there until the other officers could move in.

“Dude, what did you do?” The leader asked. “You weren’t _actually_ supposed to hit anyone!”

“Well let’s just say, I forgot to ‘punch’ out!” I quipped. “Man, I am _really_ bad at this!” Suddenly Jacobs and the SWAT officers burst in and aimed their guns at the leader.

“GET ON THE GROUND AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK!!!” one of them ordered. Dropping my weapon, I complied.

“Not _you_ , Clancy! Him!” Jacobs said.

“Right, right. I knew that.” I said, standing back up. So long-story short, the leader and the rest of the cultists were arrested, and the hostages, though still unconscious by the time the paramedics got here, would eventually be alright. And I felt amazing having saved their lives and _finally_ stopped a real crime. No sir, fanfiction did _not_ louse this up for me!

“Clancy, that was some damn fine heroism you showed back there!” Director Jacobs told me back at the office. “As a reward, the team and I have decided we want to throw you a little celebration dinner tomorrow night. Invite your family, your friends, anyone you want. You’ve earned it!”

“Thank you sir.” I said. “But, doesn’t the FBI catch criminals all the time? I’m just doing what’s expected of me, why the celebration?”

“It’s _you_. Trust me, it’s a big deal that you caught someone.” Jacobs said, patting me on the shoulder. I couldn’t believe it! An entire party all for me? This, folks, this is what makes the long days worth it. All of your coworkers in a room, stomachs full of food and brains buzzed on champagne, talking about how great you are. A few minutes later while I was in the midst of fantasies about awards and giant checks, my phone began to buzz.

“Y’ello?” I answered.

“Hey Sam! Heard about that satanic cult you took down!” Patricia said on the other line. “Pretty awesome! Also heard about that little shindig your team’s putting together. You’re inviting me and Jennifer, right?”

“Yeah, of course I am!” I said. “Wait, she’s not catering the party, is she?”

“Shhh!” Patricia snapped. “Don’t let her hear you or she’ll want to do it!”

“Now now, Patricia, I don’t think she can hear me through the pho-”

“Did someone say ‘catering’!?” I could hear Jennifer yell in the background. “I’ll get started on my signature chicken parm sliders right now!”

“Uh, that’s okay babe! I think they’ll have enough food!” Patricia shouted. “If I can’t talk her out of this, you’re in _big_ trouble!” She angrily hung the phone up. Well, that was two guests and possibly 60 cases of indigestion for the evening. While I was thinking about it, there was someone else I wanted to invite.

“Agent Dennis Cox of the CIA, how’d you get this number?” Cox answered, amid some odd clanging noises in the background.

“Cox, it’s Agent Clancy of the FBI.”

“Oh hey Clancy, what’s up?” Cox said.

“Is, um, everything okay there?” I asked nervously.

“Oh yeah, just another one of _those_ kind of days.” He said. “Villain has me strapped down under one of those swinging pendulum axe things.”

“Oh my God, do you want me to send backup!?” I exclaimed.

“Nah, I’ll pull some stunt at the very last minute and escape unscathed like I normally do.” He said. “Anyway, what’d you need?”

“I was just wondering, the team’s throwing me a party tomorrow night and I wanted to know if you’d like to come?” I asked.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it!” He said. “Oh, wait, hold on a sec…….bam! I am outta there! Gotta go Clancy, have to go stop this missile before it launches.”

“Wait, wait!” I said. “Before you go, does the villain have an eyepatch?”

“He does have an eyepatch!”

“And a goatee?” I asked.

“ _And_ a goatee.” He answered. “And a fluffy white cat he pets while explaining his evil plan.”

“That is so awesome.” I said. “Alright, go kick his ass! Buh bye!”

When I got home, of course I explained the news to my family, who were all excited for me and eager to attend. Sarah spent half the night making my hair look good, making me shave and polish my shoes, and ironing my best suit. That woman really looks out for me. I guess someone has to. As we were about to turn in, I received another call. It was Jeremy, or as you may remember him, “Fake Negan” from that LARPer group I almost busted.

“Hey nerd.” Jeremy said. “We heard about the celebration you’re having tomorrow and just wanted to let you know we’ll all be there.”

“Thanks, I’d love for you guys to come!” I said.

“Oh, don’t forget: next Thursday we’re meeting in the woods to do the scene from _Fellowship of the Ring_ where Boromir gets shot in the chest by that orc. You’re Boromir.”

“Oh, of course!” I said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The next night, the entire office cafeteria had been completely redecorated in red, white, and blue fabric, with a makeshift stage on one end. All of the tables were covered in a really fancy tablecloth and had ornate plants on the centers. Champagne was served, as was catered food (thank Jesus not of Jennifer’s make). This party was gonna rock! Before long, guests began to file in, including the other agents, my family, Patricia and Jennifer, and Agent Cox. Director Jacobs stepped forward out of the crowd and shook my hand.

“I never thought I’d ever say this to you but, congratulations Agent Clancy.” He said with a smile on his face. “Tonight is _your_ night.”

“Thank you sir.” I said, sitting down at the table with my family.

“Congratulations, honey.” Sarah said, kissing me on the cheek.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please?” Director Jacobs said. “Tonight we celebrate a man who, honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking hiring. A man who’s caused many a hangover on my part and made me question my sanity on several occasions. But also a man with conviction, bravery, determination, and a fair amount of stubbornness. Federal Agent Samuel Clancy!”

The crowd applauded as I stood up, soaking in the attention.

Director Jacobs raised his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast to that annoying son of a bitch, whom I’m glad to call a part of the team and…and a good friend. To Agent Clancy!”

“Here here!” Everyone said, banging their glasses and taking a drink. For a moment, I was enjoying what it felt like to be recognized, considered a hero! But of course, reality has this nagging little habit of waiting until you’re at your highest point in life, and shoving you down the stairs like the asshole it is. Reality this time showed its asshole-ness in the form of a “breaking news” story on the cafeteria televisions, which until that time had been left on but muted.

“And in other news,” the news anchor began as someone increased the volume. “Supposed satanic cult leader Mark Underwood, along with his followers, have been released from jail today, cleared of all charges after their alleged ‘hostages’ finally regained their memories after being knocked unconscious during a scuffle with the FBI. The ‘hostages’, actually good friends of Underwood, claim they were merely filming a fan-made parody of the hit TV show _Supernatural_. The men that were intended to play Sam and Dean Winchester never showed, but instead the real FBI arrived, believing the attempted ritual to be legitimate. This is certainly an embarrassing moment for the one FBI agent that rushed in and impulsively attacked Underwood and his friends.”

My heart sunk like an anchor. Devil worshippers, ‘Mr. Winchester’, how could I not pick up on the clues? I was actually working on a _Supernatural_ fanfic at the time. Collaborating with a friend by the name of “WolfStar_85” as a matter of fact!

I slumped into the nearest chair and buried by face in my arms. Fooled by fanworks _again!_ Unbelievable, and after everyone put together all this for me and finally thought I was a hero! Now they’re just going to take this as yet another classic “Clancy screw up.” At least, that’s what I _thought_ was going to happen.

“You know what? I’d like to say something here.” Jacobs said. “Maybe the crime Agent Clancy stopped _was_ fake. But guess what? He thought it was real. Clancy thought he was going in alone to fight deranged cultists to save the lives of people he didn’t even know. As a matter of fact, every time this man gets a lead on a crime, he follows through with it. Even if it does turn out to be fake, he legitimately believes he’s putting his life on the line for innocent people, and he does it without a second thought. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a hero in my books.”

The whole room began applauding again. I stood up once more, fighting back tears and smiling a big, goofy grin at my friends and family. I earned their respect, lost it, and then earned it back, and it was a truly awesome moment. Suddenly, the news story cut out on the television, which was now occupied by a black screen, and I heard a familiar female voice speak.

“We interrupt this broadcast for an important announcement.” The voice said. “None of you may know who I am yet, but in time you…hey, Einstein, you left the lens cap on!”

“Oh, sorry ma’am.” A male voice said.

“I swear to God, the idiots I employ.” Said the female voice. The cameraman removed the lens cap and we finally saw who was hijacking the broadcast.

“Vallek!” Patricia shouted, standing up with clenched fists. It was of course, none other than Brea Vallek, the domestic terrorist Patricia and I captured, only for her to escape from jail and elude my cousin for so long.

“We good?” Vallek asked the cameraman. “Battery charged? The camera _plugged in?_ Okay good, now where was I? Ahem, none of you may know who I am yet, but in time you will. I’m broadcasting on all major networks worldwide, and trust me, you’re all going to want to pay attention because your lives as you know them are about to change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to WolfStar_85 for letting me use your username in my work!
> 
>  _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , _The Lord of the Rings_ , Boromir, and all related characters and events are property of the Tolkien Estate, Middle-Earth Enterprises, and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc.
> 
>  _Supernatural_ , Sam and Dean Winchester, and all related characters and events are the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.


	10. Why the FBI Loves Fanfiction Writers

“Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Brea Vallek, and I am a freedom fighter.” Vallek said, her voice echoing from the multiple television screens. “For whose freedom do I fight you may ask? I fight for _yours_ , for the people, who have been under the lash of their governments for far too long. We were all born equal, and we shall all die equal; our lives are _ours_ to own! Because I fight for your freedom, some have labeled me a terrorist, an anarchist, a traitor. But soon, their opinions will cease to matter, for we…oh for God’s sake, what now? Really? I thought I told you to go _before_ we started recording! Fine, put the camera on the tripod and go.”

The camera readjusted slightly and the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard as Brea impatiently shook her head.

“Word of advice people: when you’re recruiting help, don’t hire the first idiot who walks in. It never works.” She told the camera. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah: for we will rise up and shake off the shackles of government, and take charge of our _own_ lives! The first step in our liberation will happen soon, for all to see. Be watching.”

The broadcast cut out and everyone was left speechless. Looking over at Patricia, I could see that her face was heavy with guilt; she blamed herself for not keeping a closer eye on Vallek. Director Jacobs looked concerned too, clearly asking himself the same question on all our minds: what was Vallek planning?

“She said ‘it will happen soon, for all to see.’” Director Jacobs told me, Patricia, and some of the other agents in one of our conference rooms soon after. “She’s going to attack a highly-televised event, something seen worldwide.”

“Is there anything like that coming up?” Patricia asked. The news playing in the next office over answered that.

“Well ladies and gentlemen, the White House is gearing up for what the president calls the ‘bigest-est event to happen in America since his election’: the International Potato Luncheon, where every world leader across the globe is invited to the president’s personal table to dine on a huge feast of potatoes prepared a variety of different ways. Fried, baked, au-gratin, it’s all here! We now go live to the president for a statement about the event.”

“The Potato Luncheon is gonna be big.” The president said. “It’s gonna be big and it’s gonna be yuge. No one has potatoes like ours, certainly not the Democrats and certainly not Iran. They’re gonna be here and eaten and they were grown in the ground. American ground. Plowed by American farmers. Such wonderful potatoes here for all to eat, wonderful potatoes all of them. Wonderful…”

“Yeah, okay the president’s babbling again so we’re just gonna cut the clip off there.” The news anchor said. “So yeah, the International Potato Luncheon will commence one week from now and will be televised worldwide. Don’t miss it!”

“Of course, the Potato Luncheon!” I said. “Every world leader on the _planet_ is going to be in the same room together.”

“Perfect target for an anti-government extremist.” Jacobs said.

“Now, we just have to figure out what exactly Vallek plans to do.” Patricia said. “Wait a minute. Director Jacobs, you have your laptop with you, right? Can you pull up the shipping history for the potatoes to be used in the event?”

“Good thinking, Agent White!” Jacobs said. He pulled out his laptop and booted it up, and we were all blinded by a flash of pink. Dude seriously saved the ad for the “cartoon cat shooting range” event as his wallpaper.

“Do…do I want to know?” Patricia asked.

“Probably not.” I said.

“Hey, do you want the damn shipping history or not?” Jacobs said in a huff. “Alright, I’m logging us into the computer system used by the delivery company.

“Aha, just as I thought!” Patricia said. “The potatoes were supposed to be shipped from their farm in Idaho by truck to the Boise Airport where they’d be flown to D.C. They were also supposed to arrive yesterday. Never showed up. Also no response to any attempted phone calls to the driver.”

“Vallek and her cronies must’ve intercepted the truck somehow.” Jacobs said. “But where did they take it?”

“Wait a minute.” I said. “What direction was the truck coming from?”

“Southeast?” Patricia asked. “Why?”

“I think I might know where they took the truck.” I said, standing up. “According to ‘On the Other Side of the Sea’, a _Harry Potter_ fanfic where the trio winds up in the United States, there should be a large cave off the interstate just southeast of Boise. The gang used that as a magical portal to and from Hogwarts.”

“Clancy, this is a matter of international security.” Jacobs said. “We’re not going to waste time tracking down a cave you read about in a _fanfiction!_ ”

“I mean, the author lives in the area.” I shrugged. “I’m sure he knows it better than we do! I mean, do you have any other ideas where that truck may have ended up?”

“It’s the only lead we have right now.” Patricia said. “Let’s suit up and move out!”

“Hey, I’m the Director. I say that!” Jacobs said.

“Uh, Director, now’s not the time.” Patricia said.

“I’m not going unless I get to say the thing!” he said, pouting like a child with his arms crossed.

“Ugh, fine whate-”

“Everyone, let’s suit up and move out!” Jacobs shouted. All of us simply rolled our eyes and marched down to the armory. Within no time, we were en route to Idaho; it may have been quicker to contact a more local agency, but I could tell this was personal for Patricia. Vallek slipped through her fingers once, and she was _determined_ to catch her again.

Once there, our armored vehicle (one in a convoy of three) drove to the spot I directed them to. We then went offroad for about five minutes and sure enough, happened upon a cave in the side of one of the many hills in the area. We still stayed far away enough to avoid detection until we wanted to be seen.

“Son of a bitch, you were right Clancy!” Jacobs said. I wasn’t sure what was more surprising: Jacobs giving me a complement or the fact that _fanfiction_ probably just saved the world. Maybe all the times I’d wound up reading it after being tricked by it would pay off after all! Taking a look through my binoculars, I could see a couple of hummers parked outside the mouth of the cave, and two men with assault rifles and bandanas over their faces standing guard. Jacobs gave the order to the driver, and we made our approach.

“Okay, whichever one of us wins this round gets to do the thing!” I said to Patricia, who had her fist raised along with mine.

“Ready?” She said. “Rock, paper, scissors SHOOT!” She put up scissors, I put up rock.

“Damn it!” she shouted.

“YES!” I said. “Watch me! Watch me!”

“FBI, put your hands where I can see them!” I shouted as I exited the vehicle and aimed my pistol at the gunmen, the others following suit. I love doing the thing with the yelling, it’s so fun!

“Attention, my followers!” Brea called over a speaker. “Some of the government’s stooges are attempting to thwart our revolution. Show them what happens when you interfere with the peoples’ quest for freedom!” We heard the loud roar of several engines and a line of about ten hummers emerged from inside the cave; an entire army of terrorists emerged and began firing at us, prompting all of us to take cover behind our vehicles. Our officers attempted to exchange fire, but we were overwhelmed; Vallek’s forces were too many for us to take on.

“We’re pinned down, we need backup!” Jacobs shouted over the sound of bullets thunking against the side of our vehicles. Almost as soon as he said that, we saw several minivans approach from the main road and stop a short distance beside us; to my surprise, out stepped several out-of-shape millennials in medieval-looking attire. It was the LARPers! How or why they followed us here, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t questioning it at the moment. The hostiles just stood there, not really sure what to think or do.

“Ahem.” Jeremy said as he prepared to read a quote from _Return of the King_ he wrote on his hand in marker. “Um…a day may come when the bravery-”

“Courage.” One of his friends corrected him.

“ _Courage_ of men fails, when we…uh, I think that says ‘forsake’? Forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day! An hour of wasps-”

“That says ‘wolves’.”

“I know what it is!” Jeremy said. “An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this-”

“Get to the point, nerd!” A terrorist shouted.

“We’re here to help kick your ass.” Jeremy said, clearly bummed that he didn’t get to finish his speech.

“ _This_ is backup?” Jacobs questioned. Suddenly, on the other side of us, multiple unmarked black sedans pulled up, and out stepped several men and women in black suits and sunglasses, including Agent Cox.

“Haha, never thought I’d see the day when the CIA helped out the FBI!” Jacobs laughed.

“Yeah well, we couldn’t let you have _all_ the fun.” Cox said. “Terrorism is _our_ area of expertise after all!”

“Alright guys, let’s take these bastards out!” I shouted, raising up and firing at the gunmen, the other feds and CIA agents engaging as well.

“CHARGE!” Jeremy shouted as he and the other LARPers let out some weird battle cry and charged in. As the shootout raged, I was impressed with how well they held their own with their fake weapons; they really got creative! Note to self: shooting two fake arrows with the suction cups on them at someone’s eyes and then beating them down with a plastic sword is _not_ a bad way to go. Cox was acting all “super spy” and taking out terrorists with various gadgets on his suit: pepper-spray pens, flower tasers, all kinds of weird stuff. Show-off.

With our reinforcements here and out for blood, it looked like we’d just about beaten them back. And to think: I wouldn’t have met the LARPers _or_ become friends with Agent Cox if it hadn’t been for my run-ins with fics! Another win for fanfiction! Of course, it couldn’t save me from my own absent-mindedness and lack of preparation.

“Crap!” I shouted as my pistol clicked. “I’m out of bullets!”

“Me too!” said Patricia. “And we need to get in there and stop Vallek!”

“I’ve got an idea! It’s crazy, but it might just work!” I said. Standing up, I gripped the barrel of my pistol (which, yes, was still hot) and tossed the weapon at the nearest gunman. It struck him in the head and knocked him out cold. Leaping over the side of the vehicle, I charged into the battle; every terrorist that tried to shoot at me, I dodged their bullets, blocked their strikes, and took them down with surprising agility for me! I was amazed at how high I could kick and how hard I could punch. Finally, I made it to the mouth of the cave, with a winded Patricia following.

“Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?” she asked.

“ _Legend of Korra_ fics.” I said. “The bending in that series is based on real martial arts techniques, and one of the authors I follow gets _very_ descriptive with the moves!” The two of us proceeded down into the cave until we came to a large chamber at the end of the entrance tunnel. In this chamber, we found the missing potato truck, along with a few other things. In the center of the room was a conveyer belt, which was moving the potatoes across it and running them under a sprayer that coated them in some sort of oily yellow liquid, before dropping them back in their original sacks, to be loaded onto the truck again.

“Hang on.” I said, sniffing the air. “Smell that?”

“Yeah, smells like garlic and horseradish almost.” Patricia said.

“Oh my God.” I said. “That’s sulfur mustard! I’ve read a number of fanfics describing it. It’s the same chemical agent used in mustard gas and it’s highly toxic!”

“Vallek’s _poisoning_ the potatoes and delivering them to the Luncheon!” Patricia said.

“Gee, how long did it take you to figure _that_ one out?” a voice said above us. Vallek was standing on a walkway above the machine, holding an Uzi.

“So this is your plan, huh?” Patricia shouted. “To kill every world leader on the planet with poisoned potatoes? Doesn’t that seem a little cowardly?”

“Cowardly, or _smart_?” Brea asked. “If I get found out and hauled off to prison, or killed, then the next phase of my plan can’t move forward can it? I can’t coordinate a revolution from behind bars, you know! Nah, I figured I’d keep this one low-key, just have the driver tell the people at the airport that his truck just got delayed is all. Then, these potatoes head off to the Luncheon, the world leaders eat them, die a horrible and painful death, and BAM! The head is cut off of the snake, and the people can begin the long road to liberation! I just love what I do. Some people like me could only dream of killing their _own_ country’s leader. But I have the distinct honor of taking them _all_ out at the same time!” 

“You know the only problem with that?” I said. “You just told two federal agents your entire plan.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem.” She said, raising her Uzi. “Because you’re both about to die.”

“Move! Serpentine formation!” I shouted at Patricia. We both zigzagged towards the walkway as Vallek sprayed bullets on the ground at us.

“I’m gonna find a way to shut down this machine so no one else can use it!” Patricia said.

“I’ll take care of Vallek!” I said. I hurriedly climbed up the ladder to the walkway and was immediately met with the grip of Vallek’s gun, which came swinging at me. I blocked it with my arm, pushed her away, and pulled myself up onto the balcony.

“Good, I was hoping I’d get to kill the stupid one first!” Vallek said.

“ _Former_ stupid one!” I said, kicking the gun out of her hand and knocking her backwards with a roundhouse kick.

“You learned how to fight.” She said surprised, pulling herself back on her feet. “I’m impressed!”

“Reading can teach you a lot of things.” I said.

“I have a couple of surprises of my own.” She said, reaching into her jacket and tossing a smoke bomb onto the ground.

“Clancy, everything okay up there!?” Patricia shouted.

“Yeah, everything’s good!” I shouted. “She just blinded me with smoke and I have a feeling she’s gonna lunge at me any moment, but yeah! All good up here. How’s that machine going?”

“Not good, this thing’s got so many buttons on it, I don’t know which does what.” Patricia said.

“Well just keep pushing buttons until something interesting happens!” I said. “Oh, here comes the lunge!” I had just enough time to make out Vallek’s form in the thick smoke before she charged at me, swinging a knife at my face. I tried to block once but she kneed me in the crotch and tried to stab me in the stomach. I just stuck with dodging from then on! She got me in a corner, knife pointed at me, a furious and insane look on her face.

“It’s over for all of you.” She said. “The time of men ruling other men is over. The global revolution has begun!” Both of us were jarred by the machine clanking and beginning to smoke, before finally letting out a loud hiss and shutting down. Patricia must’ve found a way to-aaaaand she just jammed one of her shoes in the gears. Guess that works!

No! My potato mister!” Vallek shouted. Using the distraction, I charged at Vallek and quickly disarmed the knife. I then grabbed one arm, one leg, and hoisted her over the edge of the walkway and onto a pile of empty potato sacks. Climbing down, I met back up with Patricia, who was holding Brea at gunpoint.

“Brea Vallek, you’re under arrest. Again.” Patricia said. As she moved in to cuff her, though, Vallek quickly spun around, grabbed Patricia’s pistol out of her hand, and backed away.

“I was going to give some big, threatening monologue, but honestly I can’t think of anything right now, so I’m just gonna kill you both!” Vallek said. She pulled the trigger and the gun clicked. Sure, I totally remembered we ran out of ammo outside! I wasn’t scared or anything, nah!

“Damn it.” Vallek breathed. Suddenly we heard a loud clank and Brea fell over; standing behind her was Director Jacobs holding a shovel.

“There, now you can’t say I didn’t help.” He said, throwing it to the ground as Patricia cuffed an unconscious Vallek.

“Thanks sir.” I said. “But where’d you find a shovel?”

“Eh, one of those LARPer guys had it.” Jacobs said. “Claimed it was his ‘noble spear.’ Nerds.”

Our combined forces outside mopped up the rest of Vallek’s henchmen. Vallek herself was sent to a maximum security prison where she awaited her trial for treason, terrorism murder of the truck driver, and attempted assassination of several world leaders. They assured us she would _not_ escape this time. As for us, the president learned what we did, presented us with awards for heroism, and invited every one of us to participate in the Potato Luncheon, once the new, non-tainted shipment arrived of course!

Well, it was delayed for about another week, but finally there we were, sitting at the president’s table with all the world leaders. We were _all_ there: me, my family, Director Jacobs, Patricia and Jennifer, the other FBI agents, Cox and his team, the LARPers, there was room for everyone, and we couldn’t wait to dig into those delicious potatoes! But first the president had to speak. Unfortunately.

“Before we start eating on these beautiful American potatoes, I’d just like to thank the amazing heroes sitting with us that prevented disgusting terrorists from killing us all. They truly are special people. You know, this country has the greatest heroes, nowhere else has them like us. Not the Democrats, not Iran, not any kind of person that isn’t us. Because we win yuge, and we win bigly, and we-”

“JUST SHUT UP SO WE CAN EAT ALREADY!” everyone at the table shouted. The president reluctantly sat down and we all dug in.

And there you have the story of how fanfiction caused a lot of problems for the FBI, but in the end turned out to save it. And that’s why the FBI _loves_ fanfiction writers! Now, you may be wondering what happened to me since. Well, I’m still with the agency, but Director Jacobs has determined that my skills are wasted spying on people’s browsers, that my bravery and fanfic-obtained knowledge are better out in the field. So, he transferred me over to the Joint Terrorism Task Force with Patricia. Now, I don’t just track the bad guys, but I go and get them too. And that’s what The Clance is all about! Yeah, they actually let me call myself “The Clance” over here, isn’t that cool?

Of course, in my spare time I still read and write fanfiction. It’s the hobby that saved the world and it’s the hobby I’ll always love and appreciate. Oh, as a matter of fact, someone just left a comment on my latest fic! Let’s see what they wrote:

**_This sucks._ **

Seriously? Wow, what idiot took the time to write that!? “SBlev92”? Never heard of them. Eh, probably just some loser. Bet they’ve never even written anything popular!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Before I get into the disclaimers, I just wanted to thank all of my readers, whose kind comments, kudos, and loyalty kept me motivated to finish this work. You're all awesome and I hope you enjoy any future fics I may write. You guys rock!**
> 
> _Harry Potter_ is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
> 
> The incredibly botched quote that Jeremy attempts to read is taken from _The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King_ and is property of the Tolkien Estate, Middle-Earth Enterprises, and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc.
> 
> _The Legend of Korra_ and all related characters and events are the property of the Nickelodeon media company


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